by L. M. Roth
“Welcome, welcome!” Kyrene laughed as she received their affection. “Oh, how good it is to see you once more! Is there any family like those who belong to Dominio?”
The three of them laughed in agreement, and so caught up did they become in their attempts to recite their history since last they met that Felicia stood in the doorway, forgotten by all present.
At last she cleared her throat.
“Does anyone remember me, the purpose of this visit, the package that is being safely entrusted to Aunt Kyrene?” she said at last.
Kyrene laughed ruefully and embraced the girl before subjecting her to a close scrutiny.
“Well, young lady,” she said in mock seriousness as she examined Felicia carefully. “I understand you wish to attend my school. Can you give a good account of yourself and your abilities? For I do not accept many pupils, it being best to pour myself into a few than to sprinkle myself over many.”
Felicia frowned at her words: was Aunt Kyrene going to be as difficult as her parents?
“I can prophesy, and I have dreams that come to pass,” she said rather defensively, her lower lip protruding in the manner that was the despair of her mother. “I wish to develop my gift; that is why I asked to come to you. If you do not approve, I will leave right now.”
And Felicia crossed her arms over her chest in a most unladylike way. Tullia immediately reached out and uncrossed her arms and pulled them down to her daughter’s sides. Felicia huffed and slouched her shoulders as her body slumped forward.
Kyrene chose to ignore this bit of byplay, and to answer the defiant girl.
“If you wish to attend my school, you must abide by my rules. And you may find them even stricter than your parents. It is only fair to give you warning, Felicia! I am not an easy mistress; my pupils can tell you that.”
Felicia flung her offending forelock off of her forehead, and rushed forward to take Kyrene’s hand.
“I do not care how hard you are to serve! I only wish to use my gift and to learn how to use it to glorify Dominio. And you are the only one who can help me.”
Kyrene studied her eyes in the manner so well remembered by Marcus, as though she could bore into one’s very soul. Felicia did not flinch, but gave her look for look, returning Kyrene’s gaze with a penetrating one of her own.
At last Kyrene gave her a slow smile that brought a warm light into her wide hazel eyes. She nodded her head in the same leisurely way before she spoke.
“Yes, the mark is there; I see it. You are a true prophet. And I think you will last and stay the course. For I warn you it is not an easy one. To be a true prophet, you must walk closely with Dominio. It will be necessary to spend much of your time with Him and away from the pleasures of the world. If you are to hear His voice, you must turn from all other distractions that would hinder your ability to hear.”
She paused a moment, and once more looked intently into Felicia’s eyes.
“Can you do this? Can you accept this charge?”
Felicia hung onto Kyrene’s eyes with her own, never blinking them, and nodded her head emphatically.
“Yes,” she whispered as if over-awed. “I can, and I will.”
“Good!” Kyrene clapped her hands together. “We shall spend some time with your parents, and begin classes tomorrow morning.”
Felicia soon came to realize that Kyrene was in deadly earnest when she said her course would not be an easy one. Classes began early in the morning, and they consisted of hours of prayer and the memorization of the teachings of Alexandros. For a prophet must hide the Word in their heart, as well as have the ability to speak it, Kyrene told them. And Dominio must have first place in their heart, with no idols that would lure them away.
Felicia enjoyed the long walks the pupils took, as they drew close to Dominio through the glory of His creation, examining it to discern His voice even in that. For one could hear His voice in the waves of the sea, the song of the birds, the softness of the breeze, Kyrene stated. He gave them all of nature to enjoy, yet it also spoke of His glory and His order. For did not the sun rise and set with regularity, and the seasons revolve in an endless cycle? Did not this very fact prove the greatness of His power, and His faithful nature that one could depend on as one could no one else?
The surrounding countryside was as different from Felicia’s homeland as any landscape she could possibly imagine. She who was accustomed to manicured lawns, fragrant gardens and stately villas soon came to love the rocky hills, the scrubby grass, the surrounding islands, and everywhere, the encircling sea. Upon rising in the morning she took deep appreciative breaths of the salty air, and waited for the gentle caress of the breeze upon her cheek the moment she ventured out of doors. It seemed that the wind blew constantly here, yet so softly that it felt like the touch of a lover, and not threatening with any sign of force. In the murmur and sigh of the waves she heard a song of longing, one that echoed in her own heart, as she yearned for so much more of life than that which her mother wished to subject her to.
Felicia quickly made friends with her classmates, who looked upon her almost as an exotic species of bird that had flown in among them from lands unknown. They were the daughters of humble merchants or fishermen for the most part, and the patrician girl with the fine clothes and refined speech amused and intrigued them, as they besieged her with requests for stories of her homeland and family in Valerium.
One girl in particular became her close confidante. Xanthe was the daughter of a cousin of Kyrene’s, and already she exhibited what Felicia was coming to regard as a family trait: the ability to see deeply into the soul of another and read its secrets and longings. Her round face was framed in a tangle of black curls that had the appearance of unfamiliarity with a comb, being always in a state of disarray. Xanthe shrugged such a fact off, as she had little regard for outward appearances, and manifested the characteristics of a tomboy. As she had three older brothers and no sisters this was perhaps understandable. But Felicia knew that her close friendship with such a girl would have been deplored by Tullia, who emphasized to her daughter the need for ladylike refinement.
“Let us race to that olive tree just yonder!” Xanthe challenged her friend.
Felicia hesitated only a moment, then gathered up her robe and ran as fast as her legs could carry her to the designated tree. She arrived laughing and out of breath just behind Xanthe who reached the finish line effortlessly, having had far more practice in running than Felicia, who had always had that activity forbidden as being only permissible for boys.
Xanthe’s large brown eyes sparkled with mischief as she exulted in her triumph. She looked at her friend with a wicked glint that both taunted Felicia at her loss, and applauded her for her daring.
“What would your mother say if she could see you now, I wonder?” Xanthe giggled.
“I know quite well what she would say,” laughed Felicia. “She would draw herself up quite stiffly and say, ‘Young ladies do not run; they never walk faster than the pace of a turtle that is venturing to explore the world outside of its shell.’ That is what she would say!”
The girls laughed in glee, then sobered.
“I truly am glad to be here,” Felicia sighed. “I have wanted to come for so long, and to be here is like a dream come true!”
“But my cousin is not easy, you know,” Xanthe reminded her. “And indeed, I have heard it said that she is more exacting with her young lady pupils than the most erudite of tutors with their students. You will learn much from her, but the cost will be heavy, I assure you.”
“Yes,” Felicia said slowly, as they pondered the setting sun together, now sinking slowly below the horizon in a haloed glow of crimson fringed with gold, “I see that already, yet it is my heart’s desire to be here rather than in Lycenium as my mother wished, where I would have been trained to be an ornament for some rich man’s home. Such a fate would only suffocate me under the weight of trivial duties in the successful running of a stately home. It would never satisfy me
. I do hope that I can receive the training and be used for Dominio’s service to spread His Kingdom!”
Felicia sighed and Xanthe smiled in understanding. Yes, she said, there truly was no satisfaction greater than the freedom to serve Him and to see His rule spread. The two girls exchanged a glance of deep contentment; then linked their arms as they turned into the tiny house as the last rays of the sun kissed its stone walls.
Chapter XI
Lucius
Lucius Maximus pondered the landscape before him. The river ran under the stone bridges dotted with statues of the famed and great that spanned its wide expanse, shrinking all else into insignificance. The boats of the wealthy of the city meandered their leisurely way down its course as though time was a matter of small concern, and all the day was before those who drifted in its wake.
Ah, Lycenium! How he loved this city, his favorite spot on earth. Not for him the cold city of Potentus, capital of the Valeriun Empire. Let the military and the power-mad take their leave of it; he had no use for it! Only here was to be had the pleasure that he sought, the beauty his soul delighted in. Not for the first time since his arrival did he ask himself how he had ever borne his native city, endure existence in the country of his birth.
Lycenium truly was the city where East meets West, just as he had always been told. Here were to be found the mystics of the East conversing with the scholars of the West, enlightening one another even as they spoke. The dramas and comedies of Western culture enriched the lives of those wealthy enough to indulge in the commerce of exotic textiles, perfumes, and spices of the East, brought in by traders via the river that ran through its environs.
Lucius felt that he would be content to remain in this city forever, and never return to the land of his fathers to take up the duties that lay in wait upon his homecoming. Lycenium was his mother’s city, and how he reveled in it! And if revelry were to be found, wasn’t that after all what the young were meant for? Surely a little pleasure did no one any harm!
That his father and mother would not approve of the revelries he had indulged freely in since his arrival six months ago, he was well aware. His younger sister Felicia had always been the “good” child of the family, if following Dominio meant that one was good. But Lucius had always sought his own way, though careful to hide it from his stern father and devout mother.
Just bide his time and wait, he had told himself; wait for the time when he could leave the family nest and strike out on his own. Then he would be free to pursue his own way and deny himself no longer!
And pursue his own way he had, boldly experimenting with first this new experience, then that one, and then another. Let Felicia be the good child of the family: he meant to live to the fullest, and in his eyes this did not include serving Dominio to the extent of his sister and parents. For Lucius merely gave lip service to Dominio, presenting only a façade of piety, while longing for the day when he need not pretend any longer.
Lucius quickly became renowned in the pleasure houses of Lycenium. He dutifully availed himself of the world famous library, for like his father he loved to read. His attendance at musicales was regular, as he inherited the love of music from his mother.
His amusement did not end with mere attendance at the amphitheater, but included making the closer acquaintance of some of its most attractive and accommodating actresses, whose hearts he broke with regularity. As he had inherited his father’s god-like handsomeness, tall, lightly muscled, and sporting a mane of wavy dark hair and flashing gray eyes, it was not difficult to find willing victims for his amorous escapades. He not only joined the common citizenry in cheering on the champions of the arena, but patronized the notorious gaming dens that respectable citizens whispered of with distaste, thanking whichever deity they served that their sons did not frequent such places and indulge in such shameful practices!
And there were deities to be found in abundance in Lycenium. Alexandrians had a small gathering in the city, as did older gods that had been abandoned in nations such as the Isles of Solone, where the invading forces of Valerium had disillusioned the inhabitants, who forsook the altars of their divinities who had proved impotent in fending off the Imperial Army that brought them into captivity and placed them under the rule of the usurper.
In Lycenium, however, the cult of Lopponios, the god of Light had been newly resurrected. Lycenium had its roots in the Isles of Solone, where Lysandros had ventured forth from and founded this city so long ago. Other sects had made inroads from the East and strange rites were performed in secret by those who vowed a pledge of silence, punishable if broken.
Lucius did not bow down before these altars, and only rarely visited the gatherings of the Alexandrians. This latter he performed as a mere duty, lest any word of his neglect reach Valerium and be brought to the ears of his father. Marcus, he knew, would be most displeased were his son to abandon the teachings of his youth, and to forsake the worship of Dominio. Therefore, to spare his father pain and himself punishment, he kept to himself his wayward heart in leaving the path he had followed so long in the home of his father.
He entered the villa of his grandmother Drusilla and steeled himself for the boredom of the evening meal. If he had a choice, he would rather endure the pious conversation of his father than the inane chatter of his mother’s mother. At least his father was an intelligent man, well traveled and acquainted with all of the teachings of the great and learned men of the world. His grandmother knew no conversation other than the latest social gossip which bored him almost beyond endurance.
His stately grandfather Tullios had passed away five years ago, taken by a bout of illness one winter that he never recovered from. Lucius honestly mourned the old man, who had been stern but full of life, relenting from his soldierly posture to take his young grandson by the hand for long walks where he entertained the youngster with tales of old campaigns fought in lands far away.
Now as he entered the villa, Drusilla emerged from the dining room where she had just issued the final instructions to her servants. Her face brightened at the sight of Lucius, for silly old woman though he considered her, she loved her grandchildren intensely.
“Lucius!” she shrieked excitedly, like some old bird that has just spotted a worm for devouring. “I have wonderful news! Today I had a letter from your parents. They have just delivered your sister safely to Solone and will be arriving within a fortnight. How delightful it will be for both of us to see them once again!”
Lucius paled and attempted a feeble smile, but in the news that delighted his grandmother he heard the death knell of all his pleasure.
Chapter XII
Retreat To Lycenium
Lucius was shocked upon their arrival to see how much his father had aged since last he saw him. Could this be his father, this man whose mane of dark hair was now streaked with white, his piercing gray eyes lined heavily, with the bags of sleepless nights pouched below them? His father had always been as handsome as a god come to earth: but this man facing him now looked merely mortal, and one that has suddenly been confronted with the harshness of reality.
His mother looked tired and sad, yet still quite striking in beauty. His father had once told him that he had loved her the moment he saw her, and that she was the most sought after young woman of her set in both Valerium and Lycenium. He could well believe it, as she retained the grace and elegance that had won so many hearts and set them racing.
But what was this his father was relating to him now? The Alexandrians had been forced to abandon Valerium? The Emperor, his father’s good friend the Emperor Urbanus, had actually issued a royal decree ordering the Alexandrians to desist in their meetings? And worst of all, the Maximus estate had been confiscated by the Imperial government, and the family evicted from it? How could this be? How could such a thing have come upon his family? And upon Valerium?
They stayed up and talked late into the night. Lucius had been shaken out of his customary self-complacency by the news his father had related. How it
had impacted his parents was only too evident, as they seemed to have aged overnight.
But it would change, Marcus told him. Sooner or later his good friend Urbanus would see the error of his ways, understand the viper he had taken into his bosom, and all would be made right again. Of that he was certain. Of that, he must believe…
His great relief was that he had been able to save Logos, the fabulous Sword that had been given to him when he was but a boy of seventeen. It would come to him, Marcus told Lucius. When the time came for Marcus to depart from this world, he would leave Logos to him as his legacy, an inheritance to be treasured and handed down to his heirs.
How much he would treasure it, Lucius thought, remained to be seen, as he preferred more tangible and useful treasures that could be utilized in the accumulation of wealth. But he wisely kept such thoughts to himself, and merely indulged his father with a nod of agreement.
They must, Marcus announced to his wife and son, call a convocation of the believers in Lycenium. Then they must relate to them what had transpired in Valerium, and the persecution of the brethren. For if it had happened there, where the Governor had always been such a friend to their cause, it could certainly happen in Lycenium; or anywhere.
Marcus also shared with Lucius how the arrival of the mysterious Iacomus Cornelius had heralded the strange turn of events in Valerium.
“I must discover everything that I can about him,” he told his son. “The facts we do have about him are contradictory, and only add to the puzzle. I must know why he came to Valerium, for I divine now that he did so with some deliberation, and a purpose in mind. But his motivation is known only to himself at this point. If we could but find it out, then we could perhaps, expose him for the charlatan that we know him to be.”